The Pearl of the Valley
by MeganNotJohn
Summary: AU. Brittany Pierce is a cheerful nun living in an Abbey in the quiet kingdom of McKynley. Santana Lopez is a rebellious princess from the neighboring kingdom of Lima. When they realize that the only hope of their kingdoms involves the mysterious "Pearl of the Valley", adventure, magic, and romance ensue.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Usual disclaimer applies. I haven't stopped working on my other story but I just felt in a fantasy mood today. I hope you enjoy. I still need a beta reader! let me know in my ask box at meeemers dot tumblr dot com if it should be you. Please comment and stuff too! :)**

_Prologue_

Brittany Piece was not yet twenty years of age, to those around her she was esteemed to be a beacon of cheer and calm throughout McKynley Abbey. Because of this, she had many friends, and many of the elders would bloom into a smile as she passed, the hood of her brown cloak gathered around her blonde hair and her footsteps light like a dance.

In the mornings, Sister Brittany's daily tasks took her beyond the Abbey walls, into the forest to gather roots and mushrooms and sometimes other things for Father Shuester's brewery. Every morning she'd close the iron gate behind her and latch it with a _clank_. She looked out across the hills. The dew still clung to the grass, and a mist hovered in the valleys. The treeline in the distance was dark and hazy.

She breathed in the fresh air, so clean, so unlike the musty air that clung about McKynley Abbey, and walk towards the forest. Birds called and dragonflies hovered over the wild grass. Judging by the humidity, Brittany could already tell it was going to be a hot day.

Once under the umbrella of the forest, it felt quite a bit cooler, and the air was silent and still. She walked even farther, deeper, to where the ancient roots were, and knelt on the ground. The hole she'd been digging for a while was her marker of where to start today. She fished out her trowel and began to break the dirt even further into the ground, sifting it with her hands in search of the prized vegetables.

This task was her favorite part of the day. Before the hustle and bustle of laundry and brewing and cheesemaking, she had a moment to be one with nature, to fill her hands with dirt. She relished it. One by one she found what she sought, breaking at them with her trowel until they came up. She put them in her cloak and kept digging. There was something delicious about it, digging in the dirt. She wore the silliest grin, just thinking about it!

As she dug, a little squirrel ventured near her. "Heyyyy, little one," she cooed. "Come to watch me work?" The creature sniffed nearer, twitching its tail. "Look at you, twitchy-twitchy!" She said. She reached out towards to squirrel, but it bolted away.

"Come back, little guy!" she whined, rising from her knees. "I don't want to hurt you!"

She parted the bushes where she had seen him run off, and took a step forward, but she was shocked when her foot found not dirt, but something… squishier. Brittany looked down. It was a burgundy wool blanket, wrapped around a lump… Oh god.

She pulled the bushes further, and peeled the blanket from the top of the lump, revealing hair that was raven-black and shiny. _Oh God, oh God!_ She panicked._ I've just discovered a dead body! Dear God, what am I going to do! I can't leave her here, but I haven't the strength to carry her back to the Abbey... Oh my God…_

With nervous hands, Brittany attempted to roll the body over. It was unwieldy in the bushes, and awkward. She was afraid to look upon its face: she'd never seen a dead person before! She closed her eyes tight and pushed with all her might.

"Jesus Christ, what the hell are you doing?" The body spoke.

"You're not dead?" Brittany still had her eyes squinted closed, just in case.

"Do I fucking look like I'm dead?" Brittany opened her eyes slowly, and looked at her. No, she did not look dead. Not at all. The raven hair, which was messy, framed a delicate face with thick, dark eyelashes and coffee-colored eyes. Brittany gaped.

"Listen, little nun. You tell anyone I'm out here, and I _ends_ you. Got that?"

Brittany just nodded.

"Good. You just go along your merry little way and forget that you saw me."

Brittany nodded again and walked quickly back towards the Abbey.

* * *

When she returned, the Abbey was bustling with the sounds and smells of boiling pots and children running between the great brick structures. Chickens wandered and clucked in the pens. It was hot indeed, and Father Shuester was fanning himself exhaustedly, sitting on the steps.

"You alright, Sister Brittany?" he asked her warmly.

"Y-Yes, I'm fine," she said, reaching into her cloak to hold up the roots, "Big haul today, see?"

"It's excellent," he approved. "You might want to rest a bit, child. You're looking rather pale."

She nodded to him and walked to the kitchens. She reconsidered what the girl in the forest said to her. Nobody had to know, right? She could stay as silent as the great stone pillars of the kitchens and nobody would be any wiser.

"Mother Beiste, I have returned!" She chirped, placing the roots in a carved wooden crate on the shelf. "What're you cooking?"

"Big ol' pot of soup!" She barked with a smile. It was hot in the kichens, even hotter than outside, and Mother Beiste was clearly sweating into her cloak. "You excited? It's Friday!"

It didn't take long for Brittany to remember what Fridays meant: dancing at the Trousers and Weasel! She let out a whoop of joy. A dance, a dance! The Trousers and Weasel was the McKynley town pub, perhaps considered no place for a young nun, but Brittany loved to dance and nobody seemed to mind. All thoughts of the strange woman in the forest escaped her. She spent the rest of the day scrubbing floors, thinking of dances.

* * *

The sun began its path downwards in the West, and a few abbeypeople made their way along the gravel trail. One of the boys had a mandolin and was leading the pack in a tune.

_Ay fa la Hey, ay fa la hey,  
My Lover shines bright as the Sun of the Day,  
Ay fa la Oy, ay fa la Oy,  
She is my Missy and I am her Boy. _

Brittany danced ahead of them on the path, taking great leaps and flinging out her cloak with abandon. Her ponytail flipped and flopped as she skipped downhill, and turned around, still bouncing. She sang out loud with the refrain,

_Say ye'll love me forever, yes,  
As sweet as cordial wine,  
Say ye'll love me till the seas dry up  
And change your name to mine!_

The humble building appeared before them just as the sky was turning a deep purple. A boy was out front lighting the lantern near the carved wooden sign emblazoned with a weasel and a pair of pants. Nobody knows who named the Trousers and Weasel, but it had been that way longer than anyone could remember.

Once inside, Brittany scanned the room with her eyes. The boy with the mandolin joined up with a group of lads carrying fiddles and drums and whistles. Young men and women laughed and drank heartily from clay mugs, looking rosy and healthy under the torchlight. Brittany looked towards the bar, where she found a familiar face.

"Miss Rachel!"

"Ah, it's you! Sister, have a seat, I think it'll be a minute before they strike up the band. Give me news from the Abbey, do!"

"Nothing happens at the Abbey, that's there's walls. To keep the boring in." Brittany wondered, half to herself and half to Rachel.

"You're so _silly_, Sister Brittany. Hold a minute, I have to bring these boys their ale."

She picked up eight clay mugs all at once and walked only a few steps to a cluster of boys nearby. They were deep in conversation.

"When they find who done it, their hide's in for quite the tanning," A young lad leaned up against the bar, his voice low and serious.

"Miss Rachel, another round!" A voice from across the room yelled, and Rachel scurried off.

Brittany sat alone and continued to listen in.

"But who would kidnap a Princess? Don't they know they'll be caught, and hung? It's only a matter of time. The king's eyes are everywhere."

Brittany spun around in her stool. "Princess?" She asked disbelievingly, before she could think better of her actions.

"Yes, a princess from Lima, across the river. King's real upset. He's making quite a show arguing with Queen Sylvester, says he's certain someone someone grabbed 'er and brought 'er here. "

"Well, what's she look like?" Asked Brittany, trying to look as casually curious as possible.

"I dunno. Heard she's real pretty. Dark hair, brown eyes."

It took everything Brittany had not to gape and sputter. Thankfully, she heard the first strains of the band begin a lively jig. A natural smile once again found her face, and she gathered up her skirts and headed to the dancing space between the tables.

* * *

The next morning, Brittany latched the iron gate behind her in the usual way, but rather than taking in the tranquil calm of the vast hills rolling out before her, her stomach was tied and twisted with nervousness. Part of her hoped the Princess would still be there. She had never looked upon a princess before, and the few glimpses she got yesterday were not enough to fill her curiosity. Yet, another part of her hoped that the Princess was gone on her way home. Brittany realized what serious trouble she'd be in if someone caught on to what was happening, and Brittany didn't like keeping secrets. In fact, she was terrible at it.

She made her way through the forest gingerly. At every corner and turn she thought she could see a glint of black hair or a flash of golden skin, but it was her mind playing tricks on her. She made her way towards the clearing where she was to dig, too preoccupied to think about the dirt today.

When she got to the clearing, there she was, no longer asleep. She was on her knees, the wool blanket wrapped around her, pawing at the foliage. She looked up at Brittany.

"You again?" She looked terribly mean.

"I brought you some bread," Brittany whispered as she produced it from her cloak.

Princess Santana was quick to her feet. Before Brittany could blink, the bread was gone from her hands and the princess was devouring it.

"Thanks, nun," She said with her mouth full. The blanket slid off to reveal a gown, laced tight around the torso, full and tattered around the hips. Brittany caught herself staring.

"You should go home, Princess," She said flatly.

The Princess shot a terrible glare at Brittany. "What makes you think you know what I should do?" She spat.

"People are worried about you. They think you've been kidnapped. The boys at the pub last night said the King thinks you're here."

"What the hell kind of a nun goes to pubs?" Santana shot back.

"I go to dance and hear the town talk. They're talking about you, Princess Santana. They say somebody's gonna get hung."

_And that someone could be me if anyone found out I know where you are,_ Brittany added mentally.

"Listen, I can't go back," The Princess explained. "You have no idea what's going on. You don't k-know… if it.. if it were you..." Her words hitched and she pulled the blanket around her again. Tears rolled down her eyes and she sniffled loudly.

Brittany suddenly felt ashamed for being so frank. She knelt down next to the princess on the ground and put a long arm around her, pulling her near. "Hush, hush…" she whispered into her hair as she sobbed.

In that moment, Brittany felt something rise in her that she never felt before. As the sun filtered in through the trees in shades of gold and green, dappling them with light, she felt stronger and more graceful than she'd ever.

"Stay here. I'll take care of you, Princess," Brittany vowed.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning Brittany awoke early to the sound of rain. She folded her blanket atop her cot, pulled an overcoat on over her cloak and stepped outside the tiny room where she slept. She hadn't slept well. Her nerves ached.

The rain gathered in pools in the stones of the walkways and gushed down the ditches. Brittany ducked beneath the stone overhang of the kitchens and pulled some bread from a crate. In her hand, she looked at it: definitely not fit for a princess, she thought. Glancing to left, she saw a sealed crock of Beiste's soup from earlier. It was heavy, but she put it under her arm and walked quickly out to the forest.

The forest floor was sopping mud. Brittany stepped carefully, holding her skirt up around her knees. Her boots were already covered. Every step of the way her heart gave out to Santana.

She found her shivering in the clearing, curled up under the wool blanket and a nest she had tried to make herself from leaves and fronds.

"I thought you'd never come," said the drenched Princess when Brittany appeared with the crock.

"I brought you soup," she said, pulling the cork from the top and handing her a spoon.

Santana really was a mess, her wet hair matted to her face and rain dripping from the tip of her nose. Even with the soup, she could not stop shivering.

"I'm going to get sick," Santana groaned. "I need to go somewhere. Do you know somewhere safe I can go?"

Brittany thought as hard as she could. Poor Santana! As a Princess this must not be anything like what she's used to.

"You could go to the Weasel," Brittany started, "But that would be too dangerous. Someone would recognize you."

She kept thinking.

"Nobody really goes in my room during the day. It's not very big- basically a cot in a closet. You'd have to hide and be very quiet, but at least you'll be dry."

"But if I'm caught there, they'll know it's you hiding me," Santana said. "I can't put you at that kind of risk. You could be hung!"

"Santana, you're going to drown in the rain out here. You'll catch pneumonia. I won't let that happen to you, so I guess I just have to take my chances."

"How will you get me in?"

"At night. Wait here. I'll come and get you after everyone's gone to sleep. We'll sneak quietly through the Abbey and deliver you safely to my room."

Santana looked at Brittany with a new admiration. Who was this gentle nun, with golden hair like a halo, dressed so simply, so willing to put herself at risk for her? _She'd probably do this for anyone in need,_ Santana thought. _I'm not special._

But Santana couldn't help but catch something lovely in Brittany's eyes, a sort of childlike purity and devotion. She had the body and demeanor of a simple nun, but the eyes of a brave knight.

And a brave knight is exactly what Santana needed now.

"I'll come for you by midnight," Brittany said. And she handed Santana her overcoat, and ran back towards shelter.

* * *

Brittany lay awake in her tiny room. Outside her window, the dark had in fully: no moon, no stars. The day's downpour had slowed to a drizzle. Sounds slowly died out below; everyone had gone to bed.

_Now is the time_, Brittany thought. She put her bare feet on the cold clay floor, pulled up her hood, and set out running towards the forest, careful to close the gate silently behind her.

The ground had dried out a bit when she reached the forest. Santana was wide awake, blanket and raincloak wrapped around her shoulders.

"Princess,"

"Santana," said the Princess. "You should call me Santana."

"They're asleep. We can go." The forest was so dark the two of them could barely see. Hand reached out for hand in the night; pinky fingers linked tentatively, and Brittany guided them back towards the Abbey.

The two ran breathlessly through the night. Brittany unhinged the gate, and they passed through it as quietly as they could. "This is my home," Brittany said proudly. Santana just looked and nodded.

When Brittany turned around from re-latching the gate, her heart sank to the ground. A man she didn't recognize stood holding a torch, talking to Father Shuester who was standing in his nightgown. She knew it immediately, he wasn't from nearby. He was a guard.

"No, no sir, we haven't any knowledge of your Princess," he said, then catching sight of the two girls.

"Brittany! What are you doing about at this hour?"

The guard was more interested in Santana. "Princess! It really is you!" He caught her quickly by the arm, and she began to shock and cry and squirm.

"Young lady, thank you," Said the guard, binding leather around Santana's wrists and turning to leave. Santana struggled harder.

"You set this _up_," Santana cried, her eyes piercing with betrayal as the guard lifted her by the waist and slung her over his shoulder. "You led me _right to them._"

"Santana I…" Brittany choked. It was too late to say anything. The sound of her shrieking and wailing drowned out Brittany's ability to think and she stood there blankly as the guard passed through the gate, leaving it open behind him.

* * *

Brittany couldn't eat or sleep. Two nights passed and she could barely string words together.

The other inhabitants of the Abbey took her for ill, and left her alone. Her thoughts were a mess. It was the middle of the night and she stared sleeplessly out the window. She had to see the Princess again. As if by an otherworldly force, she wandered down to the Abbey library and searched for maps. Finding what she

Outside, the moon had finally come out to shine. The hills outside the Abbey had a frost of silver where the moon reflected off the dew. Shivering and barefoot, Brittany walked towards the river, towards Lima Kingdom.

When she arrived at the palace, Brittany took care to be cautious of the security. Quickly she realized it would not be a problem. Two guards sat outside, half asleep with an empty jug of wine between them.

The Palace of the King of Lima was indeed magnificent. It rose out of the ground with its plump turrets hewn from such a pure white marble that it could have been made from sugar. A single buttery light shone in a tower window. Brittany knew instinctively that it must be Santana's. Careful to be quiet, Brittany started to climb the tower.

Once inside the window, Brittany marveled at the princess's bedchamber. Gossamer curtains fell like waterfalls. The burgundy wool blanket was folded, amongst others more plush, on the made bed. The deep red pillows had tassels of gold, and damask rugs padded the floor. There was a faint residual smell, like Persian perfume. A desk with ornate carving stood nearby, piled with papers and quills, topped by a small lit lantern and a pair of spectacles.

_Spectacles,_ Brittany thought to herself and smiled.

And there was Santana, all cleaned up, in the chair. She had fallen asleep on top of a book. Her gown spilled out the sides of the chair, a stunning green brocade. Her hair tumbled down her back in gentle curls, clipped with a deep green cameo.

She stirred, and Brittany froze in place. She wasn't prepared for it when those dark eyes opened. There was no haze of sleep left in them: they were bitter and hard as stone.

"What are you doing here?" She demanded. "How did you get in?"

"I… I wanted to tell you…"

"I don't care what you want to tell me." She cut her off. "Get out."

"I didn't plan anything. It was bad luck." She spit out simply, and looked at the ground.

Santana rose from her chair. Standing inches from Brittany, she brought a hand to her chin and lifted it up gently, so she could see her eyes. Brittany breathed shallow breaths, in and out, slowly. She could smell Santana's dark perfume as she held her gaze. In the glow of the lamp, she searched Brittany's eyes, looking for the truth.

After a moment her gaze softened. Brittany exhaled. She had passed this test.

"Why did you want to leave this place to go shiver in the forest? What were you running from?" Brittany asked, like a child.

"My people are in danger of war," Santana explained slowly. "Lord Karofsky, a noble of McKynley, demands of my father one of these options: Either I marry him, or I bring him the Pearl of the Valley, or our kingdoms go to war. I thought the best option would be to disappear. Upon my return I learned that my disappearance would certainly bring war." Her head sank.

"The Pearl of the Valley?" Brittany sat on the floor and directed the question upward.

"I don't know either," admitted Santana. "I've been awake searching for any references to it. Believe me, Brittany, I'd do anything to keep from marrying Karofsky, and I don't want my people to fall to war. But for all my searches, all I've found was a poem in an old book."

Santana scooped the book she had been reading off the desk, and sat down next to Brittany on an ornate rug. Brittany took the book in her lap and read:

"_In the valley, The fated Pearl Lies,  
Beyond the hopes of Men, Paramount Prize."_

"Yeah, this isn't really a lot of information," Brittany said. "But I'll search the Abbey library too. I hope this can be my second chance at keeping my promise. I'm so sorry I didn't fight harder… for you…"

Santana looked up from the book, at Brittany's eyes once more. The purity and protection she saw there made her glow. She breathed in slowly, and then leaned forward, pulling Brittany's face gently to hers and gracing it with a gentle kiss.

Brittany felt a wave of warmth and desire run down her body. Surprised, all she could do was sigh as Santana took her lips softly.

Then, at the back of her mind: _I can't do this. On so many levels. I'm a woman of God._

"Santana," Brittany breathed as she pulled away. The perfume was intoxicating, coupled with the kiss it made her dizzy and sleepy and happy. But she knew what she could and couldn't do.

"You can't? Because of God?" Santana nearly closed her eyes, still holding her gaze. "Brittany, God put us together. Ever since I've been back I can't stop thinking about you. And then you climb through my damn _window _and everything just makes sense."

"Santana I…"

"Let me prove it to you." She moved towards Brittany again, overtaking the taller girl. Brittany felt like a sinking ship. She felt her back meet the floor as Santana poured kisses over her, her dress spreading out on top of Brittany like the fanned tail of a peacock. The Princess's hands on her face and neck were as soft as snow, smoothing over her cloak, down around her waist. Brittany kissed back, overtaken with the sensations.

"I understand," she whispered out when she finally got the chance. And she truly understood, because she felt not dirty and sinful, but pure, as if everything was in its right place when Santana was near her. In her heart of hearts she knew it wasn't wrong, and if it was, she swore she'd give up on the rest of the world.

And she marveled at the affections of the beauty before her as Santana pulled her up by the waist and led her towards the bed. The candle in the lantern was flickering and fading, and a soft night breeze wandered in through the open window, making the curtains float like gauze birds' wings.

"Wait, can we just…" Brittany started. She was very tired now, and overwhelmed, and didn't really know how to say what she wanted.

"Just hold me. Alright," smiled Santana. From behind her, Brittany buried her face in Santana's hair and fell asleep. Santana held Brittany's hands around her waist the entire night.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I wrote this at my parents' house because my computer is in the shop. Oh well. If you like it, please review it.**

Aqua light filled the Princess's bedchamber. A rooster could be heard, somewhere in the distance, and it made Brittany's eyes fly open. Her arms were still around Santana's waist, and her legs were tangled in the green brocade gown, which the princess hadn't changed out of.

She sat up in bed. Santana didn't seem so regal and cruel now. In fact, she looked more like a child, her arms splayed out and her face slack with sleep. The room looked different in this light. The ruby tones of the carpets and the bedcurtains didn't seem so deep, and the air didn't feel quite as heavy. Books were still strewn everywhere. The painted plaster ceiling was visible, frescoed with cupids and Roman gods. They were entangled in some scene where a woman was trying to wriggle free from a toga-wearing man. Brittany was not educated in this myth. The light got brighter in the window, turning to paler shades of blue.

_The sun will rise soon,_ she thought. _They're going to know I'm gone!_

Quickly she untangled herself from the princess's skirts and started to swing a leg over the window ledge when she heard her name called behind her, as softly as a word could be spoken.

"Brittany," She halted in her tracks. The Princess had awoken.

Brittany turned around.

"Why don't you stay? I can have you taken back by carriage." She smiled, and rubbed her eyes, then extended a hand. The room smelled of the dewy air coming in through the window mixed with the incense-y smell that had so clouded her mind last night. The smell of the Princess.

Brittany didn't smile back. She remembered what had happened last night, how wonderful it had felt, but now all the potential consequences started flooding back into her head. What would people think if they learned she had escaped from the Abbey, by night, to climb in a Lady's window and sleep in her bed? She had to go. It would be two hours before she was back at McKynley, and that's if she hurried.

"I've got to go," She said sort of blankly.

"Oh, but how am I to properly wake if your arms aren't around me when I do?" the princess said, still smiling. Flirting.

"You'll be fine," She said with the same blank face and lowered herself out the window.

* * *

Once her feet met with the ground again, she tore out of the castle grounds like a fleeing cat.

She stopped, very quickly, to gather roots on her way back, even though she didn't have her trowel. The ground was wet and she was thankful that it made way for her hands to find the roots. She tore at them and bent them until they snapped, and shoved them sloppily into her cloak.

By the time Brittany returned to the gate, the dew on the grass had lifted and the sun was well on its chariot-ride through the eastern sky.

Sure enough, when she closed the gate, Father Shuester was there waiting for her. "Ah, there you are, Sister Brittany! I had thought you'd never return!" He was smiling.

"I'm sorry Father. I followed a squirrel into the forest and lost my way." The lie came out so much more smoothly than she thought it was. _Is this what I do now? _She frowned. _When did I become a wicked liar?_

"Mind your direction better next time!" He chuckled. "Oh child, someone ought to keep an eye on you. We mustn't lose you!"

Brittany gave a nervous grimace, and then made her way towards the kitchen. Mother Beiste wasn't there, but a couple of nuns were, wrapping loaves of bread in cloth and placing them in crates. Brittany needed to scoot past them to wash the roots and put them away. She pushed the sink pump and it sputtered. She pushed again, and this time the water all seemed to come out at once, soaking Brittany's cloak and splashing the other girls. They did not look pleased.

"Careful now, Sister Brittany," said the one nearest to her.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

She had a reputation for being forgetful sometimes. It didn't bother her that much.

Suddenly, thinking about forgetfulness, she remembered the Princess and her promise to check the Abbey library. When she finished afternoon chores she should be able to find some time. Mentally, she checked at her list. Gathering roots, feeding chickens, scrubbing the counters in the kitchen… shouldn't take long.

She walked to the back of the pantry area to grab a sack of feed, feeling impatient for the chores to be done.

* * *

The afternoon was beginning its transition into the evening by the time Brittany finished her chores. A late start meant a late finish, so Brittany wasn't surprised. She wasn't sure how long she had until the bells rang for dinner, but she wasted no time scurrying to the tall brick building which was the library.

The library intimidated her. She didn't go there much, although most everyone else at the Abbey had some kind of studies they involved themselves in. Father Shuester had his brewery studies; Mother Bieste the raising (and roasting) of chickens; Sister Lauren Zises the Art of War. She didn't really know anybody else's studies because she tended to stay away from the library. It smelled like damp wood, and most of the books were so old that they were very fragile, which made her nervous.

Pearls were jewelry, so she set out looking through the books on historical fashion. She gravitated to a big one on the bottom shelf, which seemed to be full of pictures. It was. It showed the fashions of Ladies through the years. She sat on the floor and crossed her legs, spreading the book out on her lap. Images of noblewomen from ages past were drawn across the pages. They wore funny pieces of cloth over their heads and sparkling gems dangled between their eyes. Some more exotic pictures showed ladies with chains that went from their ear to their nose, or so many necklaces hooped around their necks that it seemed to stretch them upwards, like the long neck of a swan.

"Aren't they fabulous?" asked a brown-cloaked boy next to her, who was holding a book on the costumes of performers.

"I guess so," said Brittany. "Hey," She looked up from her book at the boy. "Have you heard of the Pearl of the Valley?"

"Hmm… nope, never have. I've heard of the Tear of Aphoria… that's Queen Sylvester's crown diamond. It's as big as a marble. I've seen it with my own eyes! I've heard of Gertrude's Ruby and the Seven Sisters. Those are the sapphires in a necklace owned by Lady Judy Fabray of Lima. Haven't seen those yet. Bucket list. But never a Pearl of the Valley."

"Oh," said Brittany, "Maybe it's in one of these books."

"I assure you not," said the boy. "Not in the Historical Fashion section, at least. I've read each of these books seven times." He beamed with matter-of-fact pride.

"I'm Sister Brittany Pierce," she said, holding out her hand.

"I'm Brother Kurt Hummel," he replied, shaking hers and giving a curtsy with his cloak. "So what's the story with this Pearl of the Valley?"

"It's a thing in a legend," said Brittany.

"Legends. Yes. I understand. I love them dearly myself. Who wouldn't? Tales of dashing princes, glamorous princesses, scandalous politics… sometimes I stay up far too late in my cell, by candlelight, reading. It's just so _juicy_!"

Brittany blushed when he said the words "glamorous princesses" but kept her lips pulled tight.

"Well, I guess I won't find anything here about it," She said a little dejectedly, "But keep your ears open, you know, if you hear anything about it, okay?"

"Of course I will. I'll see you around the Abbey, Sister," he said.

"Good meeting you too, Brother Kurt," she said as she replaced the book on the shelf and left the library.

* * *

Over the next few days, everything seemed to go back to normal.

She saw Brother Kurt walk by as she was spreading chicken feed over the ground near the pens. "Hallooo!" She grinned and waved. "Where are you headed to, Brother?"

"To the library, of course!" he smiled back. "Returning this novel for another one. I _devoured _it." Brittany looked at the spine of the book. It read _Meet Me Beneath the Willows_. She decided not to ask what it was about.

He went on his way. She continued to throw the feed about as chickens waddled around and pecked for it.

Friday saw dancing once again at the Weasel. The same 11 or 12 songs were played by the band every time, but Brittany didn't mind. Dancing helped ease the monotony of the week and her daily chores, even if there was no new gossip.

Brittany had hoped, at least, to hear some word about the princess, but with the scandal of the past week gone the townsfolk of McKynley had forgotten about her.

On the way back her thoughts turned to the princess and wouldn't turn back. What was Santana doing right now? Was she still poring over books? Brittany felt a little sad. She would have liked to give her a kiss goodbye, if there'd be no consequences for that. Was that evil? Was it evil to want to kiss a princess when you knew she would've liked you to kiss her?

Brittany kicked at the dirt all the way back to the Abbey gate.

* * *

On Tuesday Morning, Brittany was in the kitchen scrubbing the floors with Mother Bieste when she heard a sound she'd never heard in the abbey. She was pretty sure it was trumpets, because once in her youth she went to Queen Sylvester's Jubilee parade and there were trumpets there, or was it some other kind of horn? Either way, this was something she hadn't heard in years, and definitely never in the Abbey.

"What was that?" Brittany raised her head from her labors.

"Sounds like Trumpets," said Mother Bieste. The trumpets went _Toot-toot-toot_ again, not a song but an announcement. People in the walkways started running to the gate to see who was there.

"I'm coming, I'm coming, make way," said a drowsy Father Shuester. He must have been taking an afternoon nap. Peering out through the gates, Brittany could see the top of a carriage and a page announce something, but she was out of earshot. She threw the scrubber back in the bucket with a _plunk_ and walked out into the path.

Father Shuester opened the gate, and the carriage door opened. An older man stepped out, and the people in the walkway bowed their heads. Brittany bowed hers as well, without knowing why. Looking up with only her eyes, she could see that he was dressed in finery like Santana had been. His head bore a gold crown. He must be the King of Lima! There'd be no other reason for the finery and bowing. Brittany gasped a little to herself when the thoughts connected.

"Father Shuester, it is a great day for your Abbey," he started.

"The woman known as Sister Brittany is to accompany me back to Lima to tend to my family chapel. It is a demand made by my beloved daughter, and I shall not take any other answer than compliance." He spoke almost robotically, like a man reading off legal code.

"In compensation I shall bestow your fine Abbey with the patronage of two hundred coin each month, or twenty head of cattle- your choice." People gasped, and made the noises people made when they were trying not to gasp. Brittany was silent. She was certain she was dreaming.

Father Shuester looked a little confused. "A woman so young as Sister Brittany barely has the experience to manage a chapel on her own. What are your intentions, your Lordship?"

"I assure you no harm shall come to her. It is a request from my daughter."

Two hundred coin was a lot. The entire abbey could eat like nobility for that amount monthly.

"When will she return here?" Asked Father Shuester.

"Whenever my daughter deems so."

Brittany didn't speak. She knew she had no say in the matter. She knew Father Shuester didn't have a say in the matter either.

"Brittany, step forward," said Father Shuester, without making any eye contact. Brittany walked through the crowd to the front, where the King's carriage was. It was made of carved wood, and it looked like something out of a book. In the front of the crowd Brittany could see Kurt. His eyes were huge and he was grinning. Nobody else was smiling. In fact, they looked horrified.

"Tell her to gather her things," Said the King.

"She has no things." Father Shuester said, as if he was saying, _You have no understanding of an Abbey, of people of God._ He was clearly growing more and more worried for her safety, but Brittany wasn't worried at all.

She made a slight bow towards the king as the Page opened the carriage door. The King reached out and caught her shoulder. His brown eyes pierced her blue ones as his deep voice said,

"You are a citizen of Lima now. You will bow to me _all the way._"

So she bowed all the way to the ground, touching the dust with her forehead, as she thought to herself of how much his eyes looked like Santana's.


	4. Chapter 4

The carriage ride to Lima Castle took only about an hour, but to Brittany it felt like it lasted days. King and Nun rode in silence, facing one another. The summer sun was at its brightest outside, and it found its way through the plush curtains hanging from the carriage window-tops. It was almost unbearably and stuffy inside the vehicle, and Brittany could smell the horses and hear the sound of their trotting as the coachman occasionally said, "Hya!" Beads of sweat formed on her forehead. She couldn't tell if they were from emotional discomfort or physical.

Santana's father stared straight ahead at her. Under his gaze she grew nervous and squirmy, but she willed herself to stay still in the presence of a king. Could he sense that she had stayed with the Princess that night? Did he know that their lips had met, that their bodies had curled up tightly against one another's? _No, no, of course not_, Brittany reassured herself flatly in her head.

Finally he spoke. "Your face is scrunched up like you've eaten something sour."

She looked up. She was unsure if there was a smile there, or disdain. His body language was relaxed, with his limbs stretched out on his side of the carriage, but is face was stony.

"Your Lordship?" She said the words very softly.

"You're probably just confused," mused the King.

They hit a bump in the road as the coachman slowed down the horses and turned them down a pale stone drive. They must be at the palace now. The carriage rolled around to the front of the plump, white building. It looked different in the daylight, from the front; it almost sparkled. Brittany figured that this was how it was meant to be seen, with its grand staircase in the front leading down to the carriageway and the gardens full of roses and shrubs. It was loud and teeming with people: gardeners, workmen, washwomen, and others whose jobs Brittany could not guess. Little buildings flanked the main palace. Brittany guessed one of these must be the chapel- the one topped with a cross.

Once out of the carriage, a Page escorted her towards it.

"Welcome, Sister Brittany," he said. "This is the Lopez family chapel. As you can see, no one has cared for it in quite some time. It's been years since we've had a Person of God here."

The building was made of white-painted bricks, and it was very small. As the page unlatched the door, it creaked like an old man crying in pain.

"New hinges," he said, "And a bucket of water and soap to start. Make a list of the other things you need to get it like new and I'll send for them. Nobody in the Lopez family has really prayed since Queen Maribel's passing. I honestly have no idea why they chose _now_ to import a priest, but I hope it's a good sign."

"I'm not a priest," Brittany said. "I'm just an Abbey nun."

"You wear the cloak," replied the page. "That's a lot more God than anyone else here. Look, these stairs lead to the basement. You'll be able to furnish a bedplace for yourself there, once you clean it up."

Brittany looked at the chapel before her. It was downright gross. Dust and spider's webs covered everything. No light came through the windows, they were so dirty.

"Come on," said the page. "You're going to need more than one pail of water. Clearly."

She trotted after him towards the pump.

* * *

After presiding over a day's worth of Brittany's elbow grease, the sun began to move westward again. Brittany was sure she heard the dinner bell but didn't know where to go, so she stayed in the chapel, scrubbing and polishing. Brittany enjoyed the cleaning. The chapel was really a beautiful little place once the dust was gone. The wood was rare and had its own glow. The molding had beautiful carvings of saints and Noah's ark and the stained glass almost looked like it was made from hard candy.

Brittany felt eyes on her, and looking towards the door, noticed a regal silhouette. Santana stepped forward, her tiny shoe making a single _click_ on the gleaming wood floor.

She put down the bucket and scrubber, and wiped her hands and looked up. Santana's presence was powerful. Brittany felt her breath catch in her throat.

She felt a twinge of embarrassment. Santana was clean. She smelled very softly of flowers and fresh water, and her dress was a dark blue silk, pulled tight around her ribs by a corset.

The newly polished stained glass caught the western light and sent it down in tones of ruby and sapphire and emerald.

"Princess," Brittany finally said after she caught herself staring.

"Didn't I tell you to call me Santana?" She said gently, with a smile.

"Santana," Brittany repeated, in the same tone. "I—I have—Why did you bring me here?"

She sat down in a pew and glanced around dreamily. "It really looks lovely in here. I haven't seen it like this since Mami..."

Brittany frowned. She had so many questions and Santana didn't look like she was about to answer any of them. She already missed Father Shuester and Mother Beiste, and Kurt and the rest of her people from the Abbey. She missed waking up the go into the forest, and she missed dancing on Fridays.

"I had a life there. A routine. I was happy," Said Brittany, standing straight up.

"You can have a life here too," Santana said, her voice a little more cold than before.

"That's not the point," protested Brittany. "I wanted to help you find the Pearl, but I'm not very good with books and I didn't find anything in the Abbey library. So now I can't help you, okay? Why would you bring me all the way here just to keep me all alone in a tiny chapel nobody's used in fifteen years? What do you want from me?"

"I don't want anything from you," Santana said, very sweetly, as she stepped towards Brittany. Brittany tried to take a step backwards, but felt her shoulders hit the wall. Santana took another step closer, snaking her arm around Brittany's waist and closing her eyes. Brittany watched in panic as her eyelashes settled gently on the skin beneath her eyes, like a landing butterfly. The flower smell enveloped her like a whole garden of roses. She was so terribly close.

"I just wanted to be near you," Santana sighed from barely parted lips.

Brittany wanted to scream, "Temptress!" and shove her away, but every inch of her body betrayed her, and she melted instead.

Rather, she choked out, "Santana… I'm not your toy. I don't belong to you."

Santana snapped back. Hurt and fury mixed in her eyes. She brought her hands up to the top of her head, touching the tiara that was woven in with her hair.

"See this?" She hissed. "You belong to me."

"I belong to God," Brittany stated, stepping up to the altar, putting the podium between herself and Santana.

The sun had continued to sink, and the only light that was left in the tiny chapel was a hot, ember-colored glow of its remains through the stained glass. Brittany could only see Santana in shadows as she gathered up her skirts and hurried out of the chapel, swinging the door shut behind her.

Brittany exhaled all at once. She felt weak, and suddenly hungry. Unrolling the carpets the page had brought her as a temporary bed, she stretched her tired body across them and closed her eyes, consciously willing herself to relax her muscles.

She took a few long breaths, trying to calm down and press the uncertainty from her mind. As soon as she finally felt restful, her eyes flew open again and she sat up straight. She heard a horseman right outside the chapel door.

Pounding hooves got nearer, and came to a whinnying halt. Had Santana come back, on horseback, to take her somewhere now? Brittany was exhausted and could travel no more. She flinched when she heard the knock on the chapel door.

Rising to her feet, she pulled the heavy wooden door open again.

It was not Santana. It was a female figure, shorter than Brittany, in a full suit of armor, standing beside a magnificent armored horse. The holes cut in the visor of plumed helmet startled Brittany because they looked so very _cruel_, but this knight was clearly very slight- a tiny woman.

She took off her helmet. Brittany looked down at the pure, fresh face of a woman her own age, framed with blonde hair.

"Hello, Knight," said Brittany.

"Good evening, Woman of God," replied the Knight. "I've come to bid you welcome to Lima. I was going to welcome you at supper, but you didn't come for the bell."

"I didn't know where to go," Brittany said.

The knight laughed a little bit. It was a gentle, girlish laugh.

"See that grey rooftop over there? The one with the pillars? That's the Great Hall. Everyone takes their meals there, from the King to the Stablemaids."

"Thank you, Lady Knight." Brittany bowed a little.

"Lady Quinn Fabray," she instructed, tethering the horse to a post and peering inside the chapel. "Wow, it really cleaned up, didn't it. I dare say it looks better than it used to."

Brittany realized they were still standing in the doorway, and with some embarrassment she made a welcoming gesture inside the chapel. It was still very dark, lit only by Brittany's one candle. She reached for a lantern.

"No need, I won't stay long. You look exhausted. What did you say your name was, Woman of God?"

"Sister Brittany Pierce, formerly of McKynley Abbey."

"It's been a pleasure, Sister Brittany. I trust I'll find you at breakfast tomorrow morning?"

"Yes, ma'am," Brittany replied, and gave another small bow. "The building with the grey rooftop."

The Lady Knight smiled warmly and left, closing the door so gently on her way out that Brittany didn't even hear it. She fell asleep on her pile of carpets feeling welcomed and at peace.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note - I still don't have a beta; so I suppose I am on my own. I am fixing mistakes as I find them, so please be patient! I have begun work on a non-fanfiction lesbian romance novel as well. As always, you can find me at meeemers dot tumblr dot com, where I'll always love to chat with you. :)**

Brittany woke up to the sound of a dull bell, thud-clanging not too far from the chapel.

_Breakfast bell,_ she thought, and murmured a little prayer of gratitude that Lady Quinn had told her where to go. She pushed sleep from her eyes, stretched out the kink in her back, and rolled up the carpets from which she made her bed.

She climbed the half-rotten stairs from the basement to the top of the chapel, shaking out her cloak as she went. She had no comb, so she smoothed out her hair as best as she could. Dirt and soap streaks still lingered on her body, but there was no time to walk to the pump and wash before breakfast.

The Great Hall was only a three-minute walk from the chapel. It was a pavilion open to the air, with stone columns as wide around as ancient tree trunks. People already filled it with the sounds of conversation, clanking pewter and clay dishes. Brittany noticed, in passing, that nobody had stopped to pray before eating as was the way at McKynley, and wondered if she'd ever get used to the difference. Then, the smell of biscuits and some kind of savory meat gravy came to Brittany as if a delicious ghost had entered through her nostrils, and she forgot for the moment about prayers. She started to salivate as she looked for where the plates came from.

At the front of the hall was a hewn wooden table with big metal vats and stacks of plates. Above it, on a platform, rested a more gently carved table. There sat Princess Santana, looking grim but eating heartily, and her father, who looked out over the rest of the hungry people with heavy lidded eyes, as if he wasn't quite awake.

Brittany joined the line behind a portly, dark-skinned lady wearing a purple tunic emblazoned with red lions. She was explaining something to the person in line before her as she picked up a plate and waved it around for emphasis before loading it with biscuits and spilling gravy over them.

The line moved a little bit and Brittany could see that her companion was Quinn.

"Lady Fabray!" Brittany smiled, craning her neck. "I found it, see!"

"That you did, Sister." Quinn returned the smile sweetly. She was wearing the same purple and red-lion tunic as the other lady. Brittany supposed it was what knights wore to breakfast when armor was too heavy.

"So who in creation is this?" asked the bigger woman, pulling her head back into her neck, as if she had never seen a newcomer before.

"Lady Mercedes, this is Sister Brittany." She made a little sweeping motion from one to the other with her hands, and then said in a lower voice, "She's the little nun that the King ripped from McKynley Abbey."

Mercedes' face softened a little bit.

"Are you a knight too?" Brittany asked.

"Sure am. See this?" She pointed to a little star that hung from a ribbon pinned just above her left breast. "It's a medal of honor. For bravery."

"Stop gloating, Mercedes, and let's sit," said Quinn as she led them towards one of the long benches.

As they took a seat, Quinn and Mercedes discussed the events of their morning, which included difficult exercises of military strength, care of the horses, and care for their armor. Brittany ate in silence. Their conversation was foreign to her.

"Well, gosh, am I glad it's Friday. I shouldn't like to see another pre-dawn drill until Monday morning! And I shouldn't like to see Stable-Man either!" Mercedes huffed, and scraped up a big spoonful of sopping biscuit.

"Friday?" Brittany sighed to no-one in particular. She had forgotten that the week could go so quickly.

"What's Friday?" Quinn glanced at her, curious.

"A day of the week," Supplied Brittany readily, snapping out of her thoughts suddenly.

Mercedes gave her a _look_ and Quinn just stared at her.

'It's just, Fridays, back at the Abbey, a few of us would trek down to the Trousers and Weasel- our pub- to go dancing."

Mercedes gave a cough into her mouthful of biscuits with bulging eyes, and Quinn tilted her head forty-five degrees to the side.

"A dancing nun?" Mercedes guffawed when she finally swallowed, which burst into a full laugh. Quinn was a little quieter, but her grin showed all her teeth.

"Trousers and Weasel? Sounds like an interesting place. I don't see why you can't still go."

"It's far away," Brittany continued. _Just like everything else I used to know._

"Not on horseback," giggled Mercedes, punching Quinn lightly in the arm. "Care to go dancing across Kingdom borders?"

Quinn started to laugh too, and clapped her hands together once with delight. "An adventure!"

It was Brittany's turn to stare.

* * *

Quinn's plan was simple: Friday chores and duties as normal, then she'd swing by the chapel as the sundial hit 8, right before the sun would set, and gather up Brittany. They'd ride to meet Mercedes at the gates of the Citadel, then be on their way to the Weasel.

Today, Brittany's chores and duties involved cleaning out the basement of the chapel cell where she was to reside, to bathe and comb her hair at the pump, and to begin to prepare some sort of prayers for Sunday. She'd never prepared prayers before. Brittany didn't know these people and what kind of prayers they wanted, but took some relief in the fact that she could repeat Father Shuester's prayers and nobody would know the difference.

Just after lunchtime the Page from yesterday came by to inform her that he'd procured a cot and wool blanket for her. Together they fit the thing through the door and down the stairs.

As Brittany gathered up the rolls of rugs to return with him, she noticed that the tiny basement looked very much the same as her cell back home. The only difference was that it didn't have a window.

The day went by quickly with the washing and dusting, and before Brittany knew it, she heard familiar hooves pound their way to the chapel door.

"Come on up, Sister," Quinn sing-songed as the horse stamped its hoof in place.

With a dancer's grace, the young nun swung herself cleanly onto the back of the horse. It was impressive, but Quinn didn't comment on it. She turned the horse around and they rode off towards the citadel's outer wall.

There they met Mercedes, who waved to the gatekeeper to let them out. Two young boys pulled the gates open just enough for them to leave.

On horseback, the Weasel wasn't far at all. Being on the back of a horse was like flying. Hillsides blurred around Brittany as the horses pounded the earth. Quinn and Mercedes rode quickly, pushing their horses almost to strain.

"Why—why do we have to go so fast?" Ask Brittany, gripping Quinn's tunic for dear life.

"Gotta get there as fast as possible! Wouldn't want to miss the dancing nun!" Mercedes shouted gleefully.

* * *

The people from McKynley hadn't arrived by the time Brittany and the Knights did. In fact, when the doors of the Weasel flapped open to admit them, there were only a couple of aged figures playing cards in the back of the pub. They looked like they'd been there all day… or all year.

"This doesn't look very exciting," said Mercedes, looking around at all the empty chairs.

"'Cause no one's here yet!" Rachel called from behind the counter, where she was drying some clay steins with a rag. "Brittany, what on earth are you doing here? I heard you got sold to King of Lima, of all people!"

"It's true," said Brittany, approaching the bar. "These Ladies are Lima Knights. Mercedes even has a medal of bravery!"

Mercedes pulled herself onto a stool and leaned her elbows against the bar, but Quinn just stood there.

Rachel's eyes washed over the knights, then grew wide. Their fine tunics, tied with a gold tassel at the waist, were unlike the garb of most of her patrons and seemed like the most delicate finery in the glow of the lamps and torches.

Brittany had seen finer garb; that of the Princess.

"We came to see the Dancin' Nun," Mercedes said. "Is it true, that this one here does a _reel _and a _jig_ and a _hornpipe_?"

"It's true!" Said Rachel.

Quinn still hadn't said anything. In fact, she just stood there.

"Good Lady Knight, have a seat! You're a friend of Sister B's, so you're a friend of mine. Let me pull you up some ale."

Quinn gave a little smile and slid onto a stool, wide eyes still just staring at Rachel under the flickering torchlight as she turned around to pull the tap on a barrel. When Rachel returned with two foaming clay mugs, Quinn met her eyes for just a moment, then

"Oh, Rachel," Brittany remembered. "This is Lady Mercedes Jones the Brave, and Lady Quinn Fabray, of Lima Kingdom. Good Knights, this is Rachel, the best Barmaid the Weasel's ever seen."

"Well, I'm a singer really. I do sing, on these nights," Rachel said, "Tunes and Ballads of Old McKynley."

"I should love to hear some," said Quinn, very softly. It was the first thing she'd said since passing through the doorway.

"Oh, you'll hear some," giggled Brittany. At that moment, a pair of villagers entered and Rachel turned her attention to them and the coins jangling in their pockets, trading those for foaming mugs of ale.

"No ale for you, Sister?" Mercedes turned around, wiping the froth off her face.

"No ma'am, I'm a Woman of God!"

"But you can dance."

"Dancing won't impair my judgement," she said. "I imagine the Heavenly Father made me to move my limbs in joy, right?"

The way she said it was so delightfully innocent that Mercedes couldn't argue.

The men with mandolins and hand-drums and penny whistles came through the door, followed by a pack of village men and women. The background sound began to rise in the Weasel as the sun sank farther, and one of the barback boys ran out to light the lanterns outdoors.

"I just want to thank you, so so so very much," Brittany turned to Quinn. "This was the highlight of my week back when I lived at the Abbey, and I missed it so."

"I enjoy a good reel myself here and there," Quinn responded, her eyes still following Rachel as she moved back and forth in her barmaid's corset and white blouse, arms laden with many mugs.

The door opened again, and a gaggle of boys in cloaks stepped in, mid-song.

"Hey, lolly, hey, lolly, hey!" They sang, twirling through the doors and headed to a table. Brittany recognized them at once as Abbey people and her heart soared. Amongst the boys was Kurt Hummel, arms entwined with two other young monks, singing high harmony over the refrain.

"Brother Kurt!" Brittany squealed, tearing towards him.

"Sister Brittany! My goodness! Seeing you here, thank the heavens! We need to talk _at once,"_ He said. "I have such news!"

"What, what?" Brittany grabbed his hand and the two of them pushed their way to a dim corner of the pub.

"I have news of The Pearl of the Valley!" Kurt said in hushed tones.

"Oh my word," Brittany gasped. "What is it?"

"It's a real gem. Set in a silver ring. Apparently it's _tiny_. It belongs to a crazy baroness up on Carmel Kingdom. People say it has _powers,_ Brittany."

"What does it do?"

"I have no idea," Kurt shrugged. "But it's a clue, right?"

Brittany thought back to her encounter with Santana and felt sad. She wanted to help her, she genuinely did… help her in a way that wouldn't involve giving up her purity, at least. The only way she could protect the Princess was to find the pearl, and now she knew who had it.

"Oh Kurt, I could just _hug you forever_!" Brittany cried as she pulled his tiny body into another bear hug.

"S-sister, I know," he said. "Y-you're very welcome."

"Keep your ears open, okay? If you hear any more, I want to know." She grinned. Hearing the first few bars of one of her favorite tunes, she pulled Kurt out into the dance floor with borh hands and began to step quickly to the lively tune.

_"And my dear she had the most starry eyes_  
_This world had ever seen,_  
_Not even the jealous moon compared_  
_To her eyes of emerald green,"_

Rachel was singing cheerfully from beside the makeshift band, making sounds that were ever-so-enchanting to Quinn. The lady knight was already tipsy off of the ale and dancing in sloppy circles with Mercedes. A few village boys were showing off their fancy footwork on top of the tables, sloshing ale everywhere. People raised mugs and wailed along with the beloved tune.

_"But my dear, the girl was gone_  
_As quickly as she came,_  
_Oh my love, why did you leave_  
_Before I learnt your name?"_

The song finished and Rachel took a long, long bow, smiling and waving to the small crowd as if they were far more people than they truly were. Another song started, an instrumental hornpipe called _The McKynley Wheel, _and Brittany cleared the way. This was her dance.

The band started quickly, and the little nun lifted her cape around her ankles and arched her foot, tapping her heel on the ground. Crossing her arms around her chest, she kicked out and back again in time with the music in a lively little circle. Her pointed legs carried her like a brightly jumping star all around the floor.

A few of the other villagers tried to join in with the hornpipe, circling around the pub with her, but couldn't keep up. As they ran out of breath, they exited the circle with heaving chests.

"She dances just like a sailor!" Quinn laughed into Mercedes' arm. Mercedes pounded her third mug of ale on the slab of wood that made their table.

"Hilarious nun!" She giggled.

"Mercedes," Quinn slurred. "Let's prepare a dance for next week… sword dance. Want to impress Barmaid."

Mercedes scrunched her face up into an unreadable expression that seemed to be mostly laughter and confusion.

* * *

They left the Weasel in the early morning hours, the two drunk knights carrying a very sleepy Brittany back through the hillsides that separated McKynley from Lima.

They didn't even bother with the gatekeeper on the way in, cutting through the forest instead, trotting merrily towards the palace and the buildings surrounding it.

When they arrived at the chapel, they were shocked to find it lit from within.

"Someone's in there," Quinn mumbled with confusion, still tipsy.

"Well it's a chapel, it doesn't lock," Brittany replied sleepily.

They opened the door very slowly. When they saw the figure inside, surrounded by candles, the two lady Knights gasped and froze in their places.

Brittany looked between their shoulders at the woman and froze as well.

It was Princess Santana, and she looked furious. She stood up from the pew and tore the door the rest of the way open, revealing the trio fully.

"Don't just stand there. _Hit the ground._" She snarled, and Quinn and Mercedes' knees fell to the floor as if someone had just whacked them behind the legs with a bat.

A split second later, Brittany kneeled down too, more awkwardly.

"Where was she?" Santana stormed at the knights, completely disregarding the trembling Brittany behind them.

"Your highness, we took her on a visit… to McKynley…" Quinn mumbled to the floor.

"SHUT UP!" Santana barked. "Why the _fuck_ do you think I would import a nun from McKynley if I wanted her to be _unavailable_ when I came to _pray_?"

Quinn and Mercedes knew better than to say anything. Brittany thought back to the woman she met in the woods and was certain that this couldn't be the same person- not at all.

"Go home." Santana spat, staring down at the three bowing women.

Quinn and Mercedes barely rose from the floor before slinking away, leaving the door wide open behind them. Brittany wished with everything in her that she could join them, but she was already home.

There was silence for what felt like a very, very long time.

Santana just sat there, sideways in a pew, staring at her on the floor in the doorway. The summer night's wind was not very cold at all. Brittany was tired, and she thought to herself that if she wasn't so scared she could just fall asleep like this.

After some time, Santana walked over and pulled her up. The touch was gentle, so unlike the venom she had been shooting through her mouth at the knights earlier.

"Where were you?" she asked softly.

"We went to the Weasel, in McKynley, they wanted to see-"

"Don't go again." Santana said the words without anger, as if she was simply shutting a heavy book. Brittany sat in the pew facing her.

"Princess?"

Santana didn't respond this time with a "You know, you may call me Santana." Brittany's heart sunk.

"At the Weasel I heard-tell news about the Pearl of the Valley."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hello Dearies. Another update for you. I hoped to have it finished sooner but I had a cost accounting exam this week which kicked my bum. Excuses, excuses. I would also like to let you know that I am writing a lesbian romance novel in my spare time, under my professional pen name, Shelly Noelle. Go read it. It's at shellynoelle dot blogspot dot com.**

**Still looking for a beta. For both this and that.**

**Anyways, on with our adventure.**

* * *

"Walk with me."

Santana said it more like a statement than a demand. At Brittany's admission of new knowledge about the Pearl, she arose with the straightest posture from the wooden pew and stretched her hand out towards Brittany.

Brittany felt too tired to walk, but too tired to beg the princess to allow her to sleep, so she rose as the princess did. Brittany was a little startled when Santana gathered an arm around hers and guided her out the door, leaving the candles to burn themselves out.

Lima at night was quiet. An ice-white moon was tiny in the sky above them, casting the path before them in silver. Silver hung at the tips of the grass and the edges of the stones in the buildings.

"So what of the Pearl?" Santana asked her as they walked, very slowly, arm in arm through the sleeping palace grounds.

"A monk I knew at McKynley- Brother Kurt- He's an expert on fashion and glamour. I had asked him about the Pearl before, when we met in the library, and he had never heard of it," Brittany started.

The impatient, interrupting Santana from before was gone. She just looked at Brittany with a trusting expression in her dark eyes, her lips closed with no signs of impending speech. Their footsteps swung out in tandem with each other, and Brittany had to look down a bit to meet the Princess's eyes. She had never noticed how much shorter than her Santana really was until they were side by side like this. She didn't feel scared anymore, either. The Princess's arm around hers felt like it was meant to be there and made her feel like a lucky Gentleman, out for a stroll with the loveliest Lady.

"Tonight, we met again at the Weasel, and he heard news," She went on. "The Pearl of the Valley is a real gem, although it's very tiny. It's valuable because it has some kind of power- Kurt didn't know what. It's set in a silver ring, and it belongs to a woman, some eccentric baroness from Carmel Kingdom."

Santana nodded. "Unique. I should have figured."

"Huh?"

"The eccentric baroness. She can only be Unique of Carmel. She's well known for hoarding jewelry- unusual jewelry, things imbued with magic."

"Oh. So now we send to ask her for it?"

"I don't think it's so easy, Brittany," Santana said. By now, they had walked behind the palace into a labyrinth of trimmed hedges and little marble walls.

Brittany looked up from the Princess when she realized that they had paused in their walking.

"Where are we?"

"This is my father's garden," Santana said. She guided them to a low wall facing a fountain and sat down. Brittany sat beside her. Once again, they were so very close that Brittany could smell the rosewater and dark, exotic perfume that accompanied her. They sat like lovers on a park bench, everything about Santana up-close to Brittany: the texture of her skin, the droplets of diamonds clasped by gold hung around Santana's neck, quivering each time her breath rose and fell.

"I'm sorry for startling you the other night," Santana said, fishing for Brittany's hand and clutching it in her own. "I'm not used to people who… who answer to a higher power."

Santana's face betrayed that she didn't like the idea of a God; something higher on the chain of command than herself. Her face strained as if apologizing was difficult exercise.

There was a long quiet as Brittany just looked down at their clasped hands on Santana's lap. A gentle wind rustled the hedges and flicked against the spray from the fountain in front of them.

"I just don't know what's _okay,_" Brittany finally said. Whenever she tried to think about these things, she was too tired and too overstimulated to understand them. She knew what was _wrong_; a list of rules she had learned very young. There were rules about touching and kissing boys, but none about touching and kissing girls; especially Princesses. The easy assumption would be that she was to kiss or touch no one. But wasn't it just like dancing, moving her body in a celebration of life's own beauty? At no time did she trust God more than when Santana looked at her, touched her, kissed her. It felt like falling backwards, eyes closed, belly up, knowing that strong arms would catch her. Wasn't that faith?

Even with all that, Brittany _knew_ what people would say. She looked at her lap with a frown of confusion.

"Is it okay if I do this?" Santana's voice was so quiet that it seemed to stay inside her body. Her free hand made its way up to Brittany's hair, deftly untying the cord that bound it. The modest knot of hair loosened and fell down Brittany's shoulders, catching icicle-gleams of moon. Santana leaned closer, breathing her, still stroking the back of her head slowly.

Brittany's eyelids were so, so heavy. Every breath she pulled in felt like she was breathing water, as if her lungs wanted to quit and her limbs wanted nothing more to spread out into a sea of sweet sleep. Santana's hand in her hair was cool and soft.

"Brittany?"

She looked down at the sweet nun who was curled against her and realized that Brittany had fallen asleep.

* * *

When Brittany gained consciousness, she felt her hair all around her, like a wild woman's, and the softest fabric against her cheek.

Opening her eyes, she recognized the Princess's bedchamber: rich red rugs and burgundy curtains, folded-up spectacles by the ornate lamp, the residual smell of incense. Once again she had woken up in the glow that comes just before the dawn. She tried to sit up, but something held around her waist. It was the tan arm of the Princess, no longer sleeved in a brocade dress but rather a white lace nightgown.

Brittany felt suddenly immodest.

She squirmed even more between the gauzy sheets, unable to free herself until the Princess let out a grumble.

"Brittany…" Santana groaned, and pulled her arm even tighter around Brittany's waist.

"What happened?" Brittany asked, her voice clear and sleepless.

"You dozed off."

Brittany looked down to find she was still in her robes. She breathed a sigh of relief- the Princess had at least been honorable.

"I have to go."

"Why," Santana sleep-whined. "Just stay and come down to breakfast with me."

"People will _talk_." Brittany pulled harder, and nearly tumbled on the floor when she finally broke free.

"Suit yourself…" Santana mumbled as she rolled over and pushed her head back into the pillow.

Pushing the window open, Brittany carefully climbed down, gaining nimble footholds in windowsills and the spaces between the pale bricks. She let out a huff when she hit the ground and scurried back towards the chapel.

* * *

After a quick wash at the pump, Brittany found Quinn and Mercedes again at breakfast.

"I'm so sorry if I got you in trouble," Brittany said as soon as they sat down. Breakfast was biscuits again, but Brittany didn't mind. They were the good kind of biscuits, and she couldn't imagine herself getting sick of them.

"Naw. It was way worth it. Princess is always mad, anyways," Mercedes said, waving her hand.

"Verbal abuse is something we get from Princess Santana _all_ the time," Quinn added, eyebrows raised. "Not your fault."

Brittany giggled and took a sip of milk from her clay cup with both hands.

"That Princess is so cruel," Mercedes went on. "She's like Satan in a dress. I bet she even glowers in her sleep."

"Nah, she smiles gently in her sleep, like a kitten," Brittany breathed, still gazing into her cup.

A beat passed before Brittany realized that the knights were staring at her.

"Come again?" Mercedes asked, her chin pulled back into her neck with shock.

Brittany looked up, like a student who had just been caught sleeping during lecture.

"Nothing," she covered. "Just… Princess isn't so mean. She was nice to me, later, when you guys left. She apologized for yelling."

"I see," was all Quinn said, eyebrows bent.

* * *

As the only churchwoman in all of Lima, Saturday's work for Brittany involved the writing of a sermon. It was something she'd never done before, all on her own, and required a lot more concentration than she'd imagined.

The palace supplykeeper had delivered her a quill and some parchment, and a desk for her basement bedroom so small it looked like it was for a child. He probably took it from the village schoolhouse. By the light of dingy oil lamp, Brittany scrawled beginnings and then crossed them out. It had been years since she'd had to write at all, and to spell the words felt difficult, let alone figuring out which words to place on the paper.

The sermon was to be for only the top palace officials: the King, Princess, and a few select knights of high ranking. What kind of guidance did people like that need? Brittany scratched at the paper with a dry quill, feeling insecure. She leaned forward and bounced her knee and chewed her bottom lip. She was a simple, simple woman and didn't feel at all qualified to give advice to Kings.

Brittany thought back to Father Shuester's sermons and found nothing to inspire her. She really didn't want to stand before the King and talk all morning about the sins of greed and thievery, or about hellfire.

These people weren't used to lectures, or God, or piety, and Brittany was smarter than to believe that she was brought here for the sole purpose of giving sermons.

Flipping absently through her aged copy of the Holy Book, her finger fell on one word: _Grace._

* * *

Heavy hooves made a booming tremor outside, and Brittany shot up from her pious reveries. They thundered outside the chapel door, and the sound of the iron knocker shook the door.

"It must be Quinn," she said, scuttling up the stairs.

She opened the doors to find not only Quinn, but Mercedes and Santana, each riding gigantic and muscular horses. Behind them were two boys she had never seen before, in garb less refined than a knight's, sharing the limited space of a donkey's back. There were brown sacks laden onto the donkey, tied with cords.

Santana looked regal, seated in a gauzy red gown that flowed behind her. Her hair was up and dewed with gems, veiled in burgundy, woven around her tiara. Her face was all business.

"Change of plans," said Santana. "No sermon. You'll be travelling. We'll be traveling."

"On the day of rest?"

"It doesn't matter. There are things more pressing than lectures."

Horse hooves seemed to trample on Brittany's traditions. She held her face tightly in a frown, but didn't dare to consider any more protesting.

"Where are we going?"

"Carmel Kingdom. For the Pearl." Santana held the reins as her horse sputtered and shook its head, jiggling the lush red plume that crested its brow.

"I won't steal." Brittany said plainly.

Santana heaved an impatient sigh. "We're just going to scope out the area. The Baroness will be wary of a band from Lima come to ogle her jewels." (Here she gave a strange, sideways smile.) "Having a church girl with us will earn us trust. You'll ride with me."

Santana's commands left no room for discussion. Brittany jumped up and swung her legs over the giant horse, scooting forward until her pelvis was flush with Santana's hips.

Her breath caught in her as she slid her arms around Santana's little waist. She figured that now was a moment where it couldn't be wrong to hold on tightly- and she was glad that she did, because Santana's horse went off with a jolt.

* * *

Carmel Kingdom was a two day ride from Lima, and the donkey loaded with supplies for their journey slowed them down even more.

They started out following the same route that took them to the Weasel not twenty hours earlier. Quinn checked her compass once, then led the company across the green hills with certainty of her precision.

Mercedes carried the Lima flag, a great banner of red and white, and the trumpet tucked in her tunic waistband glinted in the afternoon sun. The entire company appeared statuesque, even the two boys on the donkey. One was dark-haired, the other blonde, and they each looked like painters' models.

The gauze veil in Santana's hair flapped up against Brittany's face as they rode, gracing her nose with a residual rose smell, and Brittany squinted her eyes tight and pulled her face close to Santana's neck.

"Santana," Brittany said in her ear as they rode. "Can we stop by way of McKynley? It's on our path, and it'd be to our benefit to pick up Kurt. He knows gems, and another church person can't hurt our trust."

Santana's next words surprised Brittany. She turned her shoulders around and, dark eyes scrunched into a smile, proclaimed, "Brittany! You're a genius!"

Brittany's face fell into a big grin as well. Nobody had ever called her a genius before. Brittany's school-age memories involved strict teachers who slapped her knuckles for spelling mistakes and "stupid answers."

"Company!" She commanded, the harshness back in her voice. "Change the route. We've something to pick up at McKynley."


End file.
